


I'll Be Your Helping Hand in the Dark

by ravenditefairylights



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sleepy Cuddles, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 06:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16112561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenditefairylights/pseuds/ravenditefairylights
Summary: Mairon is still having nightmares from his unfortunate and very nearly fatal encounter with Oromë's hound, but Melkor is there to remind him of what really matters





	I'll Be Your Helping Hand in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceruleanshark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanshark/gifts).



> I based this on my own nightmare and attempted to write some fluffy dark lords in love, I hope I delivered.
> 
>  
> 
> Happy birthday, Cas!!!

Mairon's eyes flew open. A beat where everything stood completely still, and then, the dawning realization that none of this had been real. Relief flooded his tense body, but for a few moments he was still too disoriented from the nightmare to form any actually coherent thoughts- those came when the panic had finally subsided.

The first thing he felt was the matress under his body and the sheets and furs tickling his sweaty skin. His heart was still beating erratically; it seemed as though it wanted to rip out of his body and start running laps around the room. Mairon forced himself to breathe in slowly like Melkor had showed him, and was satisfied to see that it had some effect.

Almost fully conscious of his surroundings now, Mairon noticed more than felt the locked grip both of his hands seemed to be in. They weren't balled into tight fists, but rather stuck in the middle of the movement; holding into some sort of invisible object. It took him a few tries to unlock them, flexing the numbness from his fingers.

A whining noise startled him back to the presence, followed suit by a gentle nudging at his side. Mairon looked down, facing the little cubs laying on his bed.

_Long, sharp teeth --rows of them-- closing in, threatening to shallow him-_

Mairon pushed down the stab of fear with some annoyance. There was no reason to panic. No reason to be afraid. Mairon wasn't afraid here, others were afraid of him.

These were his werewolves. He had raised them and he had loved them. Did love them. But the image of canine fangs coming towards him was stuck in his mind's eye; the image of his werewolves being torn apart in front of his very eyes burning behind his eyelids.

Damn that diabolic hound and the half-maia devil that brought it with her-- damn everything they stood for.

Mairon put down his hand with a scowl when he realized that he had been uncounsciously rubbing his neck where those hound's teeth had sunk in.

 _Useless- pointless-_ it was nothing but memories now. Just like Melkor had said. Only memories.

The little cub's whining had woken up one of his siblings, and the two little ones tried to snuggle up against him. Mairon shifted a little to assist them, petting the tiny heads gently. A hand snaked its way under his shoulders, and the Maia couldn't even bring himself to be alarmed at the sudden cold touch as Melkor's arm pulled him closer to him. Mairon put a protective arm around the pups to prevent them from being hurt as Melkor's other arm came around his waist.

Melkor's cold was a comforting sort of cold, but that didn't mean it wasn't cold anyway. He refused to expose his baby wolves to any sort of cold at this time in the morning; Melkor's or not.

The Vala buried his face at the crook of Mairon's neck.

"Was it a nightmare again?" he asked, his usually booming voice only a slow rumble against Mairon's skin. The Maia nodded. "Was it that blasted hound again?" Mairon nodded a second time. "I should have killed it," Melkor muttered, almost to himself.

Mairon knew him well enough to say with certainty that the rage in his voice was directed mostly at the dog who dared to hurt his lieutnant, and a little of it to himself; a guilt Melkor seemed to have only for him. It was touching to know that someone cared about him so, a warmth spreading in his heart depite himself, but-

"Not your fault," he reminded Melkor for the hundreth time that century, voice flat, leaving no room for arguments. "We both failed a little."

Melkor, smart as he was, did not disagree. Mairon knew he wanted to; the protest building in his throat only to die on his lips, because they both knew whatever it was would be a lie. Melkor stayed quiet, running a hand through Mairon's copper curls, trying to soothe him. He did a fine job if it --Mairon had always like the way Melkor played with his hair-- and the Maia closed his eyes and let himself be soothed, be held, be  _loved;_ the nightmare forgotten as it should be.

It was so easy to forget all the stupid little things when Melkor held him close and whispered praises in his hair; promises of their future together. It was easy to forget everything else when Melkor was the only thing that mattered.

"Mairooooooon?" Melkor asked, dragging the vowels of his name in that ridiculous way that always made the corner's of Mairon's mouth twitch. Melkor sounded so adorable it was impossible not to smile, no matter what mood he was in; Melkor knew it too, and did this on purpose.

"Yes, Melkor?" Mairon asked, using the voice that meant he was humouring him. Both of them knew this time it wasn't so.

"I do appreciate how nice the wolves are being to you, but could we not have all fourteen of them sleeping with in our bed?"

In response, Mairon picked up one of the pups laying on his chest and held it up in front of Melkor's face.

"Tell him that," he said. "Tell Ghâst that you don't want him with you. Go ahead."

Melkor stayed silent, but Mairon who knew that the Vala wasn't ignoring him, waited patiently. Melkor was the only one who had never ignored him, never dismissed him.

"That's not fair!" Melkor complained, and Mairon smirked triumphically, but went on.

"Can you say no to a face like that?" he asked, knowning fully well that Melkor couldn't. "Look in his eyes and tell him to leave."

Melkor didn't. "He's so cute, how am I supposed to tell him?"

"If you can't tell him yourself, then none of my wolves are going anywhere," Mairon declared.

"But the bed is too small like that," Melkor whined, his breath ghosting over Mairon's ear, and the lieutnant of Angband smiled.

"Then get us a bigger bed, love."


End file.
